Day 39

Mr. McGillicutty-the teacher I'm mentoring-knows jack all about Language Arts. Every Language Arts teacher has gaps--Lord knows I could brush up on grammar and benefit (I know more about French grammar than English). But dude says weird things in what I believe are attempts to show me he knows about literature. It ain't working. Here's a sample from today:

• Hemingway was a Transcendentalist
• Thoreau could only write because he was a wealthy land-owner
• Emerson was a Cynic
• Richard Wright wrote Giovanni's Room

The Big Cheese wants me to give this guy a job and make him stick to it during last period. "Give him SOMETHING TO DO," she said. "If he don't do it, GIVE HIM TO ME."

I'ma put him in charge of crayons, markers, and colored pencils. Usually I'd have one of my students do that, but they don't need to learn responsibility as much as he does. A counsellor came to the door today and asked me to step in the hall for two minutes. When I returned there were children running around my room throwing things. McGillicutty was cowering in the corner and they were making fun of his pants.

This is a grown man.